Dreams of Another Realm
by Zepper
Summary: "Chapter Two: Forks over Knives - Learning how to kill things turns out to be much harder than stabbing them with a butter-knife. Consequently, Lienne finds herself questioning her potential." A story showcasing Lienne's odd journey through Hell and back. And back and forth.
1. Butter-knife

**Chapter One: Butter-knife**

_Posted: 11/28/2013_

_Happy Thanksgiving ;)_

Lienne has a dream, a dream that seems all too real. Soon she realizes she is no longer in her world, but is instead in the realm of demon-hunters, and their prey.

_Quick Note: This is not quite a self-insert, though it does fall in that vein. By this I mean she is a modern girl, thrust into an alternate universe. Not the most original topic, I know, but regardless it's enjoyable to write. I hope you enjoy :)_

* * *

Ominous knocks resounded throughout the still room. The darkness was inky and churning, not revealing the children's stark terror of the man outside the door. This fear could only be felt as an inauspicious sense of dread - a hovering cloud lingering over their heads and oppressing those beneath. "Wakey, wakey sleeping children. Time to come out and play."

The girl next to Lienne was whimpering in fear, throaty whines growing increasingly louder as the children heard something being drawn from a sheathe. Lienne could see a glinting axe-head through the window in the door, light catching the sharp blade with its merciless cold yellow shafts. Lienne hypothesized he was going to break through the thin glass, grab the handle on the opposite side, open the door –

The man did just that. His axe fell upon the window, sending shards of sharp translucent silica flying towards unprotected victims, who cowered, faces pale and desperate.

The girl beside Lienne could no longer stifle her fear, and it burst from her throat in full force, adding a shrieking cacophony to the loud falls of the axe.

Finally, his arm came through the window, brushing broken bits of glass from the frame. "Hello, children. How was school today?" He laughed to himself, maniacal cackles muffled by the mask he wore. "I've been having a great time, myself. These lockdowns are _always _fun."

His hand reached for the door handle, spindly fingers like the claws of death – menacing in sight and meaning.

The class was hushed as the handle turned. Though every day the door had been opened by students and teachers, always quickly, always without thought, the company now sat in rapture of the mundane hardware. It was a fool's hope: it was their only chance. If he couldn't turn it, they would be fine. The authorities would have a chance to come. They would save –

The dead fingers played with it. Caressed it. His nails glided over the metal surface, bringing small screeching sounds to the forefront of the gathered mass's hearing. The girl next to Lienne began whimpering anew. The sounds were seemingly stolen from her throat by the man's very hand – with every stroke of the handle, she would call in answer with inhuman moans. It was a terrifying concerto, told with the violent emotions of those who played it, rather than by the notes composed.

"Don't worry." His voice was low and seductive, innately evil. "I'll come for you first, my little songbird. Oh, yes!" The terrified schoolgirl now began to shake, mouth opening in horror as she gripped the legs of the desk underneath which she sat. She screamed louder. "Yes, my canary! Sing for me! Sing!"

The handle was turned within a second, his laughter accompanying the light that now filtered into the room through the open door. "Oh, look at you! All lined up, just for _me._"

The yellow shafts dappled the floor with false serenity, trying to suggest a silver lining in the black cloud of the current predicament. But Lienne knew the truth, knew what was going to happen, what this "man" _really _was. There was a good reason he wore a mask; for why he covered his eyes with white mesh cloth. This creature was a demon, and his eyes would betray the costume. Those same eyes that hungered. Always hungered – never sated.

The hunter searched for his prey. After a few glances about the art room filled with huddled children, he found his canary. But instead of letting his eyes rest upon his caged bird, he looked instead at the snake lying in wait next to her. Lienne had been debating for some time whether or not to shut her friend's mouth closed with a slap to the jaw. Perhaps they might live longer, she reasoned.

"You! Come here. I've got a surprise for those mean eyes of yours. Those mean eyes that want to silence my poor canary."

She looked to her teacher, who had fainted long before. The art mentor was draped over her teacher's chair, head lolling to the side. Lienne wasn't sure why she smiled at this. The perfect situation, perhaps. Or imperfect, depending on whose point of view you saw the scenario from.

She also thought upon why she wasn't scared. Perhaps because she knew this was a dream. Perhaps the reason was more akin to insanity. Or, perhaps, she was simply used to dealing with demons in the games she played. _It's not real. No point in being scared of something that only exists in a video game._

She pushed herself out from under the art desk, rattling the clay and carving knives sitting atop the plateau. Her friend reached for her, grabbed Lienne's arm. The hand was cold and sweaty, and it slipped off Lienne's limb, leaving streaks of salty residue behind. Lienne felt it evaporating off her skin, cooling her flesh.

"Don't go." The girl pleaded. "Don't do it."

_It's a wonder you can speak after all the racket you've been making. _Lienne just smiled reassuredly, giving the girl's wet hand a squeeze.

She stood, shaking knees belying her calm exterior. Lienne walked over to the dark figure whose mask was stark ivory. It was devoid of life, as though the body had been slashed to let the blood flow out, until it was bled white.

He nodded encouragingly, gesturing with sickening hands for her to come closer. "Yes, that's it. Here, girlie. Come right here."

She saw the glint of a clay carving knife next to her, and Lienne's fingers reached for it. She purposely tripped over a chair, sending herself into the table, where she could quickly grab the dull, overused blade without his suspicion causing her to balk.

He chuckled. "You alright there, missy? Just come here. I've got a surprise for you."

She stepped closer, each footfall a thundering crash on the linoleum. The space between them, the hostage and the captor, stretched for miles. She stepped with conviction, however, and resolutely paved the way to his doom.

"A surprise!" His voice shot into the darkness, ringing in resonance with the steel pipes that lined the ceiling. "A surprise, you snake!"

She was finally close enough to see the specks of lint on his coat. The wood grain of the axe. The chips in the blade. She was finally close enough to –

Lienne slashed the knife across his throat, tearing him a new maw. The unsharpened steel ran through his flesh like a dull butter-knife through bread. She needed to tug so it would slice through the thick, dense sinews, and tug she did. Gasps sounded out behind her, as she butchered the demon responsible for the school's lockdown.

He clawed at the gaping chasm that was his throat – angry red flesh expelled blood in flooded streams – and let the axe drop with a thud. Wet life spewed onto her clothes, her face. Every drop that fell upon her flesh burned like dry ice. But she wasn't done.

Lienne jerked the carving knife from his throat –a fitting name, carving knife – then stabbed it through the demon's stomach, hoping to wrench the bowels from his belly. She was murderous, and no one could stop her.

"_Enough!" _A new voice boomed out from above her. "It is done."

The scene disappeared. She was alone in a blank white room, blood dripping from the knife she still held in her hand. For a few moments, all she heard was the tranquil drip of liquid onto tile. It sounded like water. For some reason, that made Lienne smile. _You'd only know it was someone's insides dripping onto the floor if you looked down. How ironic. Water and lifeblood, both paramount, both as generic as a leaky faucet._ Lienne's knuckles were white, looking themselves as though they had been bled dry. A window then appeared on the far side of the white walls, and a grotesque creature huddled behind the translucent glass. _What happened? Is this a continuation of the dream?_

"Yes, she has passed. The only one." The creature said in an aside to a phone. Clearly, the words weren't meant for her. "No! He's here? _Already? _Yes, I'll grab her." A phone was slammed, and a button pressed. She heard a small beep.

Suddenly, a door opened up next to the window. It appeared out of nowhere, and through it, the creature came toward her. Its hands were claws bent at odd angles, arms like writhing tentacles. The body moved with fluidity and inhuman grace – somehow it managed to keep its rolls of flesh going on in a straight line as it sauntered over to her.

"What are we going to do with you? You somehow survived. Now you'll be able to traverse between the two realms. Interesting . . . interesting . . ."

Yellow teeth were displayed as it opened its mouth. Its breath was rancid and rank, smelling much like Lienne thought the demon she had killed might smell, given a few days in the sun. Claws touched her tender skin, but before it could get a firm grip upon her limb, a silver blade sprouted from its many folds of scaled fat. His face lost its snarl, horror instead overcame the hungered eyes. Lienne looked down, watching with fascination. The seemingly spectral blade was pushed further, twisted savagely for good measure. The end of the sword that greeted her was covered in red and brown, with some noxious, viscous fluid gliding down past the thicker, denser blood. She imagined it was stomach acid, but she wasn't too sure.

"You alright there, kid?" Her savior made himself known, stepping out from behind the carcass.

He wrenched the sword from the monster's belly with a sucking sound. The blade seemed to want to stay in the bowels of the beast. With a sigh, the wielder of the weapon this time actually put a minute amount of effort into the pull, now easily dislodging the blade.

"I hate it when dead bodies put up a fight."

Lienne gazed at her savior, transfixed. "I . . . I . . ."

The handsome man smiled. "I tend to have that effect on people. Especially women." He winked.

"I _know _you!"

The silver-haired man chuckled, rubbing his five o'clock-shadow with a shrug. "I doubt it. But if you want to tell yourself that, go right ahead."

"You're Dante."

The smile fled from his face, replaced by a deep frown. "That's my name . . . Question is, how does a little lady such as _yourself_ know it?" Eyes flashing, he flicked his head, letting the silver stands of hair fall into neat formation on either side of his face.

"Because . . . because this is –"

_What am I going to say? A dream? Why doesn't it _feel _like a dream? Why is everything so visceral, so tangible –_

"Look, kid, are you going to answer me, or are you going to be staring at my handsome face all night? I know, I know, it's quite the picture, but –"

Lienne couldn't help herself. She laughed. "Oh, _jeez_! You're every bit as cocky as the game made you out to be. I mean, I always gave your character the benefit of the doubt, especially since you had such strong conviction to protect innocents."

His smirk only deepened. "_Ri-ight. _I'm guessing this is the part where I call you insane."

He glanced back at the ajar door impatiently, then back to Lienne. He noticed she still had questions, so he tried his best not to fidget.

"What is this place?"

"Good question. Before I answer that . . ." Dante gestured to the dripping weapon in Lienne's hand. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I thought it was a carving knife for our clay sculptures. We had to use really tough clay in that dream . . . but was it a dream? It was a scenario or something that demon in the booth cooked up. The school went into lockdown, then that demon broke in. Then I killed it. Then everything vanished. But if he could make everything disappear in a second . . . I don't see why _this_" she held up the knife, waving it around, spraying droplets about in arcs, "didn't evaporate into the aether, as well."

" 'Evaporate into the aether', huh?"

"Oh. Well, 'aether' is this weird body of nothingness philosophers –"

The devil hunter chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. "I know what you meant, kid. I'm just surprised, 's all."

Her eyebrows knit in irritation. Lienne began to fidget, rocking back and forth on her heels and tapping the back of the knife on her palm. "'Surprised?'" The tapping became more aggressive, and Dante watched as angry red marks formed with every whack. She didn't seem to notice. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Can you answer my question, now?"

Dante flicked his hand in a two-fingered point towards the door. He began to walk, and Lienne hastened to catch up. "We're in something akin to a Hell Gate. I'm going to assume you know what that is because you didn't look very surprised - for someone who was being attacked by a demon. Am I right in that assumption?"

"You could say that." She was taking two quick steps for every one of his long strides. Lienne was having trouble keeping pace. Soon, they reached the ajar door and made their way inside the booth.

"Consider yourself lucky. You just took part in an insane test demons have been giving to innocents, such as yourself. You were transported into a realm of Hell. Everything you did in that realm happened. Everything you touched was real. Everyone else you saw . . ." He picked up a stack of CDs that were sitting on the table and flipped through them, "was most likely a demon."

"Huh." Lienne rubbed her shoulder, which had become increasingly tense as the . . . night? was it night? went on. She heard light clacking as Dante looked through the odd CDs. They had interesting labels on them. All she could tell was that they weren't music CDs. "_So . . ._" She began conversationally, "I guess I'm a bona fide demon-killer, now."

"Ha!" Dante laughed, clapping her on the shoulder so hard, she almost smacked her face into the floor. "You're real funny, kid."

He rummaged around in the room for a bit, moving aside stacks of papers and various CDs. "It looks like you guys were being recorded. There's tons of tapes here!"

Lienne began to join in the rummaging. Opening a closet to the left of the control panel where the window was, she was aghast to find hundreds of CDs, stacked lazily, arranged by date. The ones on the top were the closest to the date she remembered living in . . . the rest fell back from that date, with labels like, "Loan 1973 EY", and "Johannes, 1926 EY". She guessed "EY" meant Earth Years.

"Hey, kid! I found yours. Wanna watch it?"

Not waiting for a response, he popped it into the control panel. The window went dark, then showed the art room. Lienne wasn't sure where the image came from. There was no projector in the room, just that glass panel that she called a window. She looked around for the source of the image, forehead furrowed with trenches of concentration.

"Re-_lax_," Dante cooed, relaxing himself. He had his feet up on the panel, was seated in a leather office chair, and somehow managed not to press any buttons, even though his heels were on top of dozens.

_That's demon blood for you._

She sat down beside him, in a similar office chair.

They watched.

For some reason, only the latter part of her trial had been recorded. The recording opened up with Lienne standing. Her friend's arm came up to stop her, looking just how Lienne remembered it.

Then Lienne began to walk over to the demon. She tripped on the table. She walked again. She stabbed the demon in the neck.

"Holy crap, kid! I'm surprised you had the balls to do that."

"Wait for it." Lienne replied, resting her forehead on the control panel where there weren't any buttons. _I'm no half-demon. I'd end up pressing every button on this stupid table. With my luck, I'd start the self-destruct sequence. _She began rubbing her temples. Voice strained: "It gets even worse."

Dante watched silently, impressed or not, Lienne couldn't tell. But she didn't need to look at the screen. She heard the tearing and ripping. The screams bubbling up from the demon's throat. Her small grunt, as she plunged the tiny blade into the thing's belly, pushing it deeper and twisting it until a river of blood washed over her feet.

The macabre sounds ended, and she heard the creak of the office chair as Dante stood.

His voice was quieter now, much softer. She didn't even want to make a guess as to why. "Come on, kid. Let's get you somewhere safe."

* * *

After eons of traversing through the abandoned warehouse, they found themselves outside. The night was brisk and unforgiving. A homeless man sat hunched over a makeshift book, trying to read in the dim light of the flickering streetlamp overhead.

The streets were slick with rain, rain that brought all the smells of the city right up to her nose. She tried not to slip. Lienne wrinkled her nose, not wanting to let any of the dank rot into her respiratory system.

"Where are we?"

The devil hunter took a moment to respond, watching the greenish puddles of putrid pestilence that threatened to attack his boots. He avoided them easily with grace, but in exchange he constantly had to keep watch for the impending miniature lakes. "Near my shop, actually. I'm surprised I never noticed this little 'demon snuff-film business'." Dante shrugged, then lightly leapt over another puddle. Lienne didn't have as much luck. "Eh, well. They've been keeping quite the low profile."

With a grimace, Lienne shook her foot in disgust for a moment. Dante didn't even notice, and continued walking.

Quickly, she caught up. After a few moments of silent wandering, Dante uttered the question Lienne knew had been coming. "You live around here, kid? Have some place I can drop you off?"

She rubbed her neck, cold fingers inciting goosebumps to form on her vulnerable skin. "Let's just say . . . I'm foreign."_  
_

Needless to say, Dante was surprised. The half-devil turned a bit while he walked, trying to catch glimpses of her expression as he mulled over her response."Uh . . . well, do you have any friends living in these parts?"

Lienne suppressed the urge to sigh. "No."

Dante couldn't suppress his own urge. He released a cynical sough into the air, and the airborne carbon dioxide mingled with the humid atmosphere. Under his breath, he grumbled, "I swear, every stray . . ."

With a noncommittal shrug, the mildly irritated man waved away his qualms. "Whatever. Fine. Stay with me." Dramatically pointing his sword at her in a chastising fashion: "But don't go complaining about the mess; I've heard enough nagging about it already."

Lienne smiled, already knowing what his place looked like. "Don't worry about it. It's better than sleeping on the street."

Dante just snorted. "Yeah? We'll see how you feel when you've encountered the thousands of pizza boxes lying on the floor. You'll probably rather sleep in the alley."

Lienne returned his snort with a derisive one of her own. "I highly doubt that."

As they continued walking, Lienne marveled at the shops and bars that lined the streets. It was so quiet; dead. There was nary a soul out. It almost seemed like a state fair after dark, the ominous rides and attractions yearning for visitors that never came.

After wandering in a general northern direction, the pair finally made it to Dante's shop. The sign above the doors was confidant and bright: "Devil May Cry".

"After you." Dante opened the door for her, gesturing grandly with his arm for Lienne to step into the shop. She nodded her thanks, looking at the squalid hovel.

"Man. You weren't kidding. Well, except about the pizza boxes. Those were definitely exaggerated."

He laughed, then gestured to the couch. "You can crash there, if you want. Bed's upstairs. But I doubt you'll want to sleep on that."

Lienne's lips upturned, and she went over to the red plush sofa, the only clean thing in the room. "Thanks, Dante."

Holding up a hand to display nonchalance, Dante amicably replied. "Don't mention it. Just get some shuteye."

He proceeded up the stairs, then came back down, tossing her a few blankets and a pillow.

"Night, kid."

Lienne wasn't too sure how to reply. She was surprised Dante was being this hospitable; he had a reputation of being fairly self-interest centered. She settled upon a response that wasn't too sycophantic, nor too indifferent:"See you in the morning."

She settled into her makeshift bed, letting the new world settle upon her. But she couldn't ignore a noise that rasped annoyingly; ever-present and obnoxious: the fan was clacking. Over and over, the sound grated against Lienne's ears. She was surprised Dante fixed it, after that brawl in the beginning of the third game. Eventually, the clacking became a drone, and it lulled her to sleep.

She dreamt to find herself in a lake of the dead. A light shower of grey water fell from above, small drops quickly drenching her. The back sky thundered overhead, the pool of water she stood in reflected its anger.

Lienne saw a figure clad in blue lying in the middle of the shallow lake. The light patter of rain could be heard percussing against his thick coat.

_Well, look who it is. How did Dante's brother end up in my dream?_

She watched, transfixed. Vergil stood, breathing heavily, as the three lights of Mundus flared in the sky. The swordsman drew his choice weapon, saying something to himself. Lienne couldn't hear what he spoke, but she remembered the dialogue from the end of the game. He was going to try and defeat Mundus. The fool. Icy water lapped at her feet. She looked down and saw dead faces. They screamed silently, right beneath the crystalline surface. Their expressions were broken by the rain, however, as the ripples ripped through the glass-like liquid.

She tore her eyes from the water, to look back at Vergil. He began to run, dark water almost seeming to part for him.

"STOP!" Lienne's voice shot through the dank air towards Dante's brother, halting him. "Don't! You'll die!"

Vergil's body stilled, ramrod straight. His eyes immediately found Lienne's. The expression in them chilled her to the bone. She couldn't discern what he felt, just that whatever emotion it was caught her heart and wrenched it. Suddenly, the dream seemed too real. The water was ice; she could no longer feel her feet. Her pants were soaked – denim clung to her like a second skin.

She couldn't discern his expression. Nonetheless, the young man didn't seem very perturbed by her adamant utterance. "I'll die, will I?"

The distraught young woman tried to keep her voice as strong and demanding as possible, but could barely control the shiver in her throat. "You're injured, and you want to go against the Devil King? Don't be an idiot. You need to get out of here, before he gains control of you!"

Vergil's eyebrows drew together in a rare expression of unrestrained anger. He snapped the words at Lienne, but to her relief, he turned away from the glowing orbs hovering overhead, and faced her. "It's far too late. The portal has closed."

Lienne pointed a long finger at the sky, where the red orbs crackled with electricity. "If you try to fight him, you'll end up becoming his thrall."

His voice was short, clipped. Like cold steel. "How do you know this?"

_How can I convince him? How can I prove it? _She wrung her hands together, twisting fingers to the point of drawing pain. "Because I've _seen_ it!"

Vergil sliced his sword through the rain. Lienne was held in terror at his ability. The rain parted, and he sheathed his sword in that familiar dramatic way, twirling it, droplets of water spinning off. Then the master of swords slid the back of Yamato along its sheath, finally letting it glide back into its home.

He stood still a few moments, simply letting the rain caress his skin with its supple chill. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. Lienne waited anxiously to hear his words."Who are you?"

The answer came quickly, before she could restrain her apprehension. "I'm Lienne." The young lady then paused, thoughtfully rubbing her chin. "I know this is just a dream, so you probably sheathed your sword because my consciousness willed it. But nonetheless, thank you."

His killer eyes narrowed. The master of swords soon began to stride towards her, ever so slowly. She felt the intimidation he exuded fall upon her, causing her hands to clench in silent fear. The water barely splashed as he moved; Vergil walked with natural grace.

Suddenly, he stood before her. Lienne's breath caught, seeing him so close. Rain traced his expression, droplets framing his strong face. She watched in rapture as a glistening drop ran down his jaw. She couldn't believe how beautiful he was. Just like Dante, but with an intrinsic elegance that made her heart flutter. With a mental shake, she forced herself to look back up at the half-devil's eyes. She found a stony expression waiting for her, and felt suffocated by his searching look.

"This is no dream."

* * *

Lienne woke with a gasp, flailing her arms about. She tumbled onto the ground, crashing to the floor painfully, earning herself a laugh from Dante.

"Now _that's _an interesting way to wake yourself up. Better than an alarm clock, I bet."

She moaned, resting her forehead on the ground. Wiping the drool from her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked groggily: "What time is it?"

"Pretty late." He was leaning against his desk, nonchalantly messing with an apple. Dante tossed the spherical fruit in the air, catching it with the point of his gun, then tossed it up again. "You slept in even later than me. I'm impressed."

Another pained groan rose from her throat, and she let herself drop fully onto the ground - Lienne lay like a beached fish, finally given up on trying to find its way back to the ocean. "You got any ibuprofen?"

The half-devil made a face of exasperation. He bit into the apple, a large crunch sounding out. "Oh, quit your whining, kid. Go take a shower or something."

She pushed herself off the floorboards, hair askew and messy.

Dante couldn't help but smile.

With the half-demon's loud chewing as her theme song, Lienne made her way over to the stairs, stumbling the whole time. Her feet dragged on the treads, and she almost tripped. Somehow, the dazed teenager made it up, and Dante heard the door to the bathroom click closed.

Surprised, the devil hunter noted Lienne had left a trail of water. He hadn't even noticed she was wet. His eyes narrowed in thought. The water looked familiar, for some reason. It was a deep, dead grey, and didn't soak into the flooring like normal water would have.

As the shower ran, he sat down at his desk, fingering the butterknife-like blade from the night before. Glancing towards Lienne's makeshift bed, Dante gazed at the mass of blankets that had fallen onto the floor, seeming for all the world like guts spewed from the sofa's belly. He shook his head, then blew silver hair out of his face with a chuckle. "She'd better clean up this mess. I'm sure as hell not going to."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**All right! This chapter takes place right after Devil May Cry 3's ending. **

**P.S. Keep in mind the Dante being portrayed here is from right after DMC3, and will therefore be a lovable and go-lucky badass. So he won't have the broody indifference from _DMC: The Animated Series_ or anything like that. He's just the awesome guy from DMC3 and 4. Rest assured, though, this Dante still loves his strawberry sundaes ;)**

**Edited: 12/1/2013 **

**Edited: 12/2/2013**

**Edited yet again: 12/11/2013 (Oh, so many typos. So many, many typos DX)**


	2. Forks over Knives

**Chapter Two: Forks over Knives**

Learning how to kill things turns out to be much harder than stabbing them with a butter-knife. Consequently, Lienne finds herself questioning her potential.

_Quick Note: Yup. It's a long chapter. Bear with me._

_Posted: 12/3/13_

* * *

"I just think you should help me out. You know, as a way to pay rent, or something." The devil hunter wasn't accustomed to asking people to work for him. _Eh, well. There's a first time for everything, _he thought with an inward shrug.

"I don't remember you being this _indèsic_. " Lienne accentuated the foreign word with a sweeping hand gesture, then took a sip of carbonated sugar water. Wrinkling her nose at the severity of the bubbles, she continued. "Weren't you the one that invited me into your humble abode, scot-free?"

Dante fingered the spoon stewing in his strawberry sundae. "I've been known to change my mind." _She's a lot more confident than she was when I found her a few days ago. A lot less cooperative. A lot more annoying, too._ " 'Sides, I think it'd be good for you."

Lienne snorted, immediately regretting it. Her eyes teared up as the carbon dioxide exited through her ducts. She put a hand to her chest, feeling a soda-induced burp coming on. "Yup. Definitely. Because a girl like me will be able to take on hordes of demons."

The increasingly-irritated demon hunter leaned back in his booth, flimsy steel frame outcrying against his weight. Upon lacing his fingers behind silver hair: "I didn't say _hordes, _exactly. Jeez, lady. You were in a way better mood this morning."

Grabbing the shining utensil to her right, she stabbed the tines into an unassuming pancake, severing a chunk from the rest of its being. "I'm not sane in the mornings."

"Why won't you work with me? I bought you _pancakes! _" Dante's eyes flashed with irritation. She had a lot of nerve._ Living in my place and not bothering to help me out. Making me buy her -_

Lienne burst out laughing, having to put a hand over her mouth to keep from spewing pancake over everyone in the general vicinity. "_I _bought these pancakes. Your sundae, too. You're welcome, by the way."

_Oh . . . yeah. Whoops. _This was going worse than he'd predicted. "Look, I don't care how much Lady is paying you, just work for _me! _Come on!"

She put down her fork, full attention now on him. "What kind of help can _I _give? I'm sixteen years old, with no work experience. I don't even know how to drive. How the heck am I supposed to help out in your business? Of slaying _demons? _If you want money, fine. I'll give you my twenty-five dollar paycheck I get every two days for organizing the files in Lady's office."

_I don't want your damn paycheck. I just don't want you staying in my shop while demons are ransacking the countryside and I'm out on a mission. Especially since you're Hell's Gate on legs. You don't know it yet, lady, but you're going to have to learn how to protect yourself real soon, whether you like it or not. _He decided to keep up this pleading charade. It made the girl more comfortable. And if meager begging made her willing to learn how to be a hunter, then that's how he'd be. Meager. And begging.

He sighed. _The things I do for humanity._

The observant teenager noticed his fallen demeanor, and immediately dropped the smile that had been flitting over her lips. She suddenly felt horrible. Lienne knew this demon hunter better than he knew himself. She'd played the games, after all.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Trying to look astonished beyond belief, Dante glanced up from his sundae, inserting artificial hope into his doe eyes. "You'll _what?"_

"I'll do it. More importantly, I'll start today. Clearly there's more to this than you want to divulge, so I'll just trust your judgment."

Suddenly, a knowing grin flirted with Dante's lips, his charade fully forgotten. The hunter waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, yeah? Don't tell me you were won over by my _many_ charms?"

Lienne looked at the knife sitting on a napkin to her left. She contemplated throwing it at Dante. Right between the eyes. Instead, she picked up her fork and resumed eating. No need to make the poor busboy clean more dishes. "That was quick. You dropped your 'help me pay rent, I'm so meek' act pretty fast." Her voice had gone up an octave to display the "meekness" of his assumed character. Leveling out her larynx: "Next time, you should try to gradually slope off. You know, after a plot twist or something. Then you'd have an excuse to change your personality."

Actually astonished, Dante dropped his spoon. It fell into the ice cream with a splat. _How much does this kid know? Is she really that sensitive to emotions? Or does it have something to do with that "video game" bullshit she wouldn't shut up about the other night? "I know you pretty well, Dante. Trust me." Isn't that what she was going on about?_

Ignoring his surprise, Lienne just grimaced to no one in particular. She pushed the plate of pancakes away, putting her elbows up onto the dingy diner surface with a grunt. As the troubled teen began rubbing her temples – a common habit, Dante noted – she spoke. "You done yet? I have to get some ibuprofen from the drugstore. You don't have any painkillers in your cabinet. Just a bottle of laxative that looks ten years old." He noticed a smile peek out from between her massaging hands. "I'm not even going to ask why you kept it."

The loquacious devil hunter replied, smugly, "I've been saving it for you." _Truth be told, it was there when I bought the place. I just keep forgetting to throw it away._

_Oh-ho! That's _**it**! She reached for the knife, but when her hand landed upon the napkin the cutlery had been sitting on, all her fingertips met was soft cloth-like paper. She looked up, vexed, to see Dante twirling the implement of slicing between his fingers.

"Up bup bup!" He tutted. Pointing to a warning sign at the front of the diner, the half-devil wagged a playful finger at her. " 'No fighting.' "

As Lienne glared bitterly at the complacent man, he smiled innocently. Silver hair swayed as he threw his hands up, palms skyward, in that "classic Dante" manner. "Don't blame me. Blame the sign."

She snorted._ "Sign", my ass._

* * *

"No, no, no. You've got it all wrong." Dante was enjoying himself more than Lienne deemed necessary. Why didn't that smug grin ever leave his face?

He poked her side, and Lienne twitched away in surprise. Dante nodded in satisfaction, gesturing to her improved form. "Yup. That's better. Keep your knees bent."

"You're so lucky. You don't have to do all this crap. You just . . ." She waved her wooden sword around, making sound effects of the "boom" and "whoosh" variety. Dante felt an affectionate smile for the odd teenager twitch at the corners of his mouth. He pushed down the temptation, and instead leaned against his desk with a shrug.

"I'm half-demon. It's in my blood."

She sighed morosely. Letting her sword arm droop, Lienne absently admired the floorboards. "It'd be cool to be half demon . . ." The despondent girl shook herself out of her stupor, then reaffirmed her fighting position. "I don't know. This just seems like more trouble than it's worth. I'm decent with this . . . _thing_." She brandished the "thing" in question, sweeping it about. "But it's so . . . boring. I've always been a better shot than a swing, anyways." Lienne's head cocked to the side, confused by her own wording. "If that makes any sense."

Dante uplifted his shoulders in yet another shrug. "Can't say I've ever had that problem. But if you want, I can teach you how to shoot."

Lienne grinned. " '_Teach_' me?" She nodded at Ivory, questioningly. Dante took the silver left-hand gun from his holster and handed it to her. "I thought you were right-handed?"

"I am. But I'm also left eye dominant. You got any practice slugs?"

"Already in there." Dante crossed his arms, not wanting to admit he was eager to see if she was as good as her cocky sideways grin suggested.

She observed her surroundings. An abandoned dartboard sat on a crate high above them. _He has quite the warehouse theme going on in here._ This crate was situated upon a mesh-like alcove that hung via steel cables. The only access to it was a ladder that, by the looks of it, hadn't been used for eons.

After a dramatically deep breath, which caused Dante to raise his eyebrows, Lienne took aim. She moved the safety with her left thumb, then pulled back the hammer. Faster than Dante expected from a kid, from a _human _for that matter, Lienne fired three shots. She squinted, looking at the target through small winding tendrils of gun-smoke.

After a moment of quiet contemplation of the dartboard, Lienne suddenly squealed, pumping her fists in the air and jumping about. "_Yeah_, baby_! _I didn't know if I could do it! I mean, I was good back in eighth grade, but I haven't picked up a gun since then. And I always just used a pellet gun when I went to practice with my dad after school –"

Dante's jaw dropped, looking from the celebrating teen to the hole she'd bored clean through the dartboard. The two shots had followed the first, all three creating a singular quarter sized hole. "Holy _shit_, kid."

Lienne looked down at Ivory, not believing what she had accomplished. With a self-depreciating snort, the cynical girl handed it back. "I bet it was all in the gun. I used to be good, but not _that _good."

Dante refrained from telling her Ivory was a hard gun to handle. He didn't want to stroke her ego just yet. The devil hunter glanced at the hole again, and gave a low whistle. "Anything else I should know about you? Fight crime on the side? Practice taekwondo?"

Lienne blushed, sitting herself down on the couch slowly. "Nope." She mulled over her few talents for a moment, choosing ones that she deemed worthy to mention. "I play the sitar. I haven't played one in eons, but I used to be pretty good." She leaned back in thought, staring at the churning fan as her mind traveled. "I'm not really _good_ at many things, to be honest. I'm just 'okay' at a lot of them. Like a jack-of-all-trades kind of deal." After a thoughtful pause: "I also like long walks on the beach."

Dante grinned. This kid just kept getting better and better. _I take it back. She's not getting annoying. She's getting interesting._

* * *

With Dante gone for the time being, Lienne had a long while to herself. The lost teenager had come to terms with the fact that she'd never see her parents again. Or her friends. Or her dog. _Oh, Jessie. _She closed her eyes as she lay on the couch, imagining the way his whole body would shake when she came home from school, butt propelled by the ferocity of his tail wags. She recalled how big he'd been, with vicious teeth that had never been displayed in a snarl. Quite the contrary. He was one of the mellowest dogs she'd ever had. Fitting, since the way things turned out, he'd probably be her last.

Truth be told, she didn't really _mind _being in a different world. There was nothing for her in her previous life. Like she told Dante, playing the instrument she loved wasn't really practical. It's not like anybody gave a crap about the sitar. Additionally, she wasn't _good _at anything else. She couldn't pay attention in school to save her life. She hadn't been in any extracurricular activities. In short, she just wasn't 'cut out' for Earth.

Not to mention her life had been exceedingly boring. Day in, day out: Wake up. Eat. Take a shower. Brush teeth. Comb hair. Go to school.

_If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'd been having an existential crisis. _She laughed to herself, fiddling with a hole in her jeans. _Maybe I was. Maybe I _**am**.

Lienne forlornly sighed. _Why am I even thinking about this? It doesn't matter, anyway. _Her thoughts moved on to another lingering problem: the problem of her dream.

After long hours of contemplation over the past few days, she still hadn't made sense of the dream. The dream of Vergil. Had he been right? Was it not a dream, but something more? That demon who'd been watching her from behind the glass had told her she'd be able to planes-travel. But he helpfully never mentioned how. _That's it, then. I planeswalk in my sleep. Great. Add that to the fact I'm horrible at math and love piña-coladas, and you've got one hell of a profile._

"Hey, slugger." Dante interrupted her thoughts, plopping onto the couch beside her, causing her cushion to rise like the tide. "You should get ready. We'll leave in thirty."

She hadn't even heard the door open. Quietly, Lienne nodded. He spoke of her impending first mission. _I'm not cut out for this. I've killed one demon, sure. But I can't just stab them all with conveniently placed butter-knives._

She felt an unexpected pat on her back. The brooding girl turned, to be met with Dante's compassionate smile. "You'll do fine, kid." He handed Lienne a revolver he'd bought while he was out, silver and mundane. But she gripped it with thanks, inclining her head in acceptance.

"I sure hope so."

* * *

It was cold. Dreadfully cold. Lienne felt the shivers flit over her body, goosebumps crawling up her legs and arms. They felt like tiny bugs, creeping up her pants and sleeves, trying to find their way to her core to imbue it with cold.

She'd had enough of this frigid weather. Her previous residence had always been pleasantly warm, caressed by the soft touch of almost daily rainfall. She'd loved it, and recalled it fondly. This dry chill was more than she could handle - or wanted to, at least.

The devil hunter beside Lienne shared her sentiments. He crossed his arms, grunting. "Is it just me, or has it gotten even colder over these past few seconds?"

Lienne smiled, then adopted a narrator's voice. "The infallible Dante, finally defeated by forty degree weather."

He rubbed his arms, trying to generate heat. "Yeah, well. You look pretty damn frozen, yourself."

Dante had informed Lienne about the nature of their mission a few minutes prior. They were supposed to wait – wait out in the gelid night. What they were waiting for, the devil hunter didn't bother to mention. He just said something about a lead he'd gotten from Lady.

The pair stood away from the streetlights, huddling in a dark alley next to a decrepit bar. The sounds coming from inside were particularly suggestive, and Lienne felt dirty just from hearing them. "Am I the only person who feels like an idiot, here? We're standing outside of a _stripclub_, for god's sake!"

Dante breathed into his hands, rubbing them together, building friction."Stop with the whining. It's cold enough as it is. I don't need your complaints, too."

Laughter bubbled up in Lienne's throat, and she couldn't rein it in. Unexpectedly, her laughter burst out, warming the dispirited alley with mirth. It was loud and abrupt, but she was sure no one on the other side of the wall could hear it. "You're such a girl when you're cold!"

The shivering demon hunter turned to her, eyeing the girl with bitterness. His resentful glare was nullified by the adorable ruddiness of his nose and cheeks. "Yeah, yeah. Just quit your yapping, already."

A door burst open, and Dante leaned to the left, trying to get a look at the entrance of the stripclub. "That's our man."

He moved in an instant, vanishing from Lienne's sight. Suddenly, he appeared again, with an unfamiliar man in a headlock. Dante gestured with a nod to the back of the alley. Lienne obliged, walking towards a dumpster and rolling it so the large trash receptacle was perpendicular to the walls on either side.

She grimaced as the wheels screeched in protest. With her luck, the owner of the stripclub would come running out, thinking she was trying to steal his oversized trashcan, and holding a man hostage to get it._  
_

Dante tossed the club-goer onto the ground behind the dumpster so no passerby would see, the hunter's glare more frigid than the black night that swirled around them. "I hear you're into the snuff-film business. What's the going rate for crap like that these days?"

Lienne's brown eyes widened. _This _guy? Was he involved in that "test" she and hundreds of others had unknowingly taken? _Is that what Dante's investigating, then? The "Hell's Gate Project" those demons cooked up?_

"I dunno what yer talkin' about." The drunk wiped his disheveled face with the back of his arm, then spat.

The glob of putrid, translucent liquid fell onto the half-devil's left shoe, marring the perfectly polished leather.

Lienne cringed. _You've done it now._

As ferocious as a summer storm, Dante grabbed the bedraggled man by the scruff of his shirt, sweeping him into the air and slamming his back against the hard brick wall. Lienne heard a decisive crack as the drunkard's back hit cold stone. Her cringe deepened.

"I asked you a question." Dante's voice was nonchalant and amicable, as though he were chatting about the weather. But he somehow managed to keep that mischievous gleam in his eye, showing he was toying with his prey, drawing out the man's fear. "I don't like it when I have to repeat myself. Why don't you save me the trouble?" Dante leaned in close, silver hair brushing against his prey's rough cheek.

The man being held up by his shirt shivered uncontrollably, but not from the brisk evening; rather, from the growling malevolence his captor exerted. "Wh-what . . . I d-don't –"

Lienne gasped as a spectral being materialized before her. Members of the Seven Hells walked into the human plane, screeching with dead throats. Their scythes were ominous and sharp, eyes focused and hungered. There were a dozen, at the least; some were Hell Greeds, others were of the more dangerous Soul Eater variety.

"Shit." Dante sighed, tossing the man down. But Lienne saw a black grin split the drunk's face, and bile fell from his mouth in small green trails that shined in the moonlight. She drew her gun from the waistband of her jeans; she didn't have a fancy holster like Dante did.

Lienne caught Dante's eye, and somehow they were able to communicate without speaking. He drew Ebony and Ivory, hidden beneath his leather coat, and moved to fight the nether beasts. Lienne turned her attention to the then-drunkard presently-demon that lay before her, now fully comfortable in his real form. She'd never seen his like before. He wasn't one of the Seven Hells, nor any other lesser demon Lienne had battled in the games. Warm, green slime dripped from his skin, steaming when it hit frigid concrete. A dank stench wafted off the creature, making Lienne's eyes water.

As she listened to the sounds of Dante toying with his enemies and mouthing off, she stared at the new demon. Cocking her head, she observed him. He stared back, or, more appropriately, glared. "He knows you're alive."

Lienne faltered, taken aback.

"He knows! He knows, he knows, he _knows_!"

"That's great." Lienne grunted to the spined fiend before her. He suddenly hunched over, breathing heavily, sound grating against her ears like rocks on glass. As a bolt from the dark sky, it lunged, green arms reaching for her.

Lienne was silent in her dodge, unable to speak with a fear-constricted throat. She thought it helped her stoicism, though. The preoccupied teen figured if she was going to hunt demons, she might as well have a persona. Dante already had his inimitable cocky act, so "stoic lady demon-hunter" was the best she could come up with at the moment. It'd give her a goal to strive for, at the least. Otherwise, she didn't know who to act like. She felt lost without a character to play.

The demon's arm came around again, and the creature tried to separate her head from its companion, namely her neck. Jumping back, she pulled the trigger of her new revolver – thankfully, it was double-action, so she didn't need to cock it before she pulled – and shot the fiend's kneecap. A sickening crunch accompanied the ambient sounds of haphazard fighting, and the demon shrieked.

Lienne smiled, enjoying herself as the stoic huntress. "I'm not done, yet." The marksman saw her predicament as lucky, since Dante was taking on the brunt of the trouble; all she had to do was fight one odd demon.

Her joviality soon came to an end. With a screech loud enough to convince anyone near to run like hell – not that there _was _anyone in the general vicinity – the demon sprouted spikes longer than Lienne was tall. One of them shot straight through her kneecap, the same spot where she'd stricken _him._

Her mouth opened in silent despair; a perfect "o" as tears welled up in her eyes – eyes that reflected the malevolent expression of the attacker, intensifying her terror.

"Paying it forward, eh?" But frightened thoughts belied her stoic exterior. Lienne restrained herself from crying out in pain. _I should've shot the damn thing in the face._ The agonized girl wanted to persevere, and push through. _Can't have Dante thinking I'm not cut out for this, can I?_

Impaled, she couldn't move. In manic fury, she aimed at the spike protruding from his body. She managed to break it off, half of it in her leg, the other half sticking out of the beast's chest. It shrieked again, and Lienne braced herself for another spike.

It came, straight through her arm. She felt the hard material rip through muscle, grating as it drilled through bone and marrow. Pain seized her, proving an even tougher adversary than the spines, themselves. The gun dropped from her left hand, and she was left unarmed.

Frantic, her eyes sought any weapon near her. When the beast retracted his organic weapons, she fell to the ground, good arm groping for anything – anything to save her. She felt rather than saw her fingers chance upon something metal. Without thinking, she threw it at the demon, adrenaline carrying the utensil to the center of its bulging eye. A loud squishing sound, much like the noise of someone stepping on a waded up sopping rag, left little to be imagined. Blood spewed from the eye socket, and Lienne grinned through her pain – though the display of satisfaction seemed more like a forced grimace. _Look, Mom. I struck oil._

It toppled over, much like an oil rig whose legs had been severed at the root by overzealous hippies. Clawing at the heaven-sent fork, the demon writhed with hysteria.

Lienne crawled over to her gun, tears running from her eyes. She prided herself on the fact that she wasn't sobbing. Nonetheless, she couldn't control the tears falling to the cold cement. A glacial feeling had sprung into being, accompanying the sharp spurts of pain, and she looked down to see her knee had become an ominous black; with angry, swollen veins webbed around it. Glancing toward her arm, she noted the same to be the case for that particular wound, as well.

The glint of metal drew her eye, and she inwardly rejoiced upon finding her fighting partner. It had slid to rest beneath the dumpster. She pined for it, madly dragging herself toward the shining alloy.

Her right hand's fingers found it, and clasped the grip gratefully.

Flipping onto her back, she took aim. The demon was upon her, now, mouth open in a murderous howl. Terrified, Lienne fired, hitting the fork dead on, sending it further into the demon's skull. The bone cracked, tined cutlery splitting the other side and coming out in a mess of grey and red chunks.

Breathing heavily, she let her head fall back against the cold alleyway ground. _Who am I kidding? I'm _**not**_ cut out for this, as much as I hate to admit it. _Lienne stared at the deep black sky, paying special attention to a reddish star that floated millions of kilometers above her. _So much for my "stoic huntress" act. _Lienne wanted to be there, basking in the radiant warmth of a dying red dwarf, instead of lying in pain on this frozen cement. _I don't understand. I didn't belong in my previous life. I'm not even powerful enough to belong in this one. So where do I even go? What do I _**do**? Wistfully, her hand reached out to grasp the gaseous form. Lienne's fist closed on nothing but brisk air, languid eyes falling as drawn curtains, and her mind rose into the aether she'd sought so adamantly.

* * *

Dante hated himself in that moment. He'd never felt as angry with his own being as he did now. The young man kept telling himself he hadn't saved the aspiring hunter because he'd wanted Lienne's first battle to be her own. The veteran knew how important mistakes were, and that any new devil hunter needed to make their own foolish missteps in order to learn, but this . . .

The half-demon looked down at the girl, brown hair matted with blood and dubious grey matter that thankfully weren't hers. She lay upon the couch she had slept on the night prior. Then, she'd only been asleep for a few hours. Now, she ran the risk of falling into a slumber that lasted for eternity.

This was too far. He'd messed up.

_He _had ushered her into battle. _He _had convinced her not to stay in the shop. It was his fault. Hot, molten guilt gripped his heart in a vise, and Dante let his head fall into upturned palms.

Lady stood beside him, long fingers resting on his shoulder. "Well, you've managed to let the only person willing to organize my thousands of files get herself killed."

"She's not dead," Dante snapped, words coming out more biting than he'd intended.

Lady sighed, retracting her hand from his body. Dante felt the previously warmed spot become cold. "I know, Dante. I know."

The female hunter dropped a small hand-towel into a basin. After it absorbed warm water, she wrung it out, then placed it upon Lienne's forehead. The young lady's lips were purple, her face pale to the point of being blue. If she wasn't dead now, it wouldn't be long before she was.

They gazed in silence at the petite form. Lienne still held her small silver revolver, trapped in the confines of delicate fingers. Those fingers were scratched and worn, bleeding and torn. And yet, she still clung to her firearm as a shipwrecked sailor clutches a sinking mast.

Absently, Dante took Lienne's hand, rubbing an angry welt on her knuckle with his thumb."Hang in there, slugger."

* * *

"It's you, again."

Lienne felt a smooth voice caress her ears, vibrating her eardrums with its deep rumble. She decided not to lift her eyelids, content to simply listen to this man's radio-worthy tone.

"Sleeping so soon, just after visiting? Am I truly that boring?"

"Mmm. . ." The nap-desiring girl rolled over, trying to rest her head on her arm, using her limb as a pillow. "Keep talking. Your voice is _nice._"

She caught the sound of the man's dry chuckle. "If you open your eyes, we can have a proper conversation. Then you'll be able to listen to my 'nice voice' to your heart's content."

Lienne gave a long-suffering sigh, then sat up. Upon rubbing her eyes, she realized her fingers stung horribly. And that she was holding what felt like a rather large weapon in her right hand, because her left sat limply at her side.

She opened her eyes with a start, suddenly finding herself in a deep grey wasteland. The calls of far-off and unseen demons weaved through the atmosphere, along with lilting breezes that carried the smell of death. Lienne inhaled deeply, growing accustomed to the musk. She was situated upon a precipice overlooking a long-dead valley, ground cracked where water had once been. The liquid had evaporated, leaving small fissures and chasms behind, due to the expanding nature of water vapor. Dead trees were bent at odd angles, dotting the valley here and there, congregating in small cliques. The cliques chatted amongst one another, whispering secrets in the form of low soughs that moaned through their branches. After a few moments of searching, Lienne couldn't see the man she had been listening to from her position, so she turned herself around slowly, trying not to incite her wounded appendages.

There he stood, looking down at her with the smallest hint of a smile. His backdrop was an awe-inspiring churning sky, back and grey, with odd spherical lights flitting through the clouds. "Good morning, Lienne."

The girl he spoke to widened brown eyes in stupefaction, and failed to form words with her clumsy tongue and ungainly lips. She could only say but one thing after many moments of trial and error: "_Vergil?"_

The stoic man didn't respond. Glancing over her body, he saw her deep wounds – wounds so extensive, they were a window to the ground beyond. He could see directly through the points of entry in her flesh, to the grey, cracked slate itself.

"What did you do?" He silently strode toward her, uplifting her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Vergil looked at her as though she were an equestrian for sale, and he was debating whether or not to invest in her.

Lienne sat in rapture, not daring to breath. _Why is he so close to me?_

"What did _I _do?" Pulling herself out of the daze, she snapped at him incredulously, cursing the fact that she couldn't stand. She wanted to speak with him on equal footing, but with her shot knee, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Lienne's anger dissipated into a sough - a low moan she expelled from the very center of her being. "I did a bad job, that's what."

Vergil continued to eye her observationally, albeit with a small smile. "Euphemisms don't become you."

Waving her gun about in irritation, she gestured to his being. "What are _you_ doing here, anyway?" His eyes made her nervous – when his glacial gaze touched her own, she felt a creeping heat crawl up her neck, an interesting juxtaposition to the temperature in his deep pools of ice.

"A gun?" Vergil pressed his lips together in contempt, eyeing her revolver with distaste.

Lienne smiled to herself, mouth upturning in quiet reverie. "I forgot you disliked firearms."

Vergil's eyes narrowed. "You knew?"

The wounded girl sighed. The events of the night suddenly caught up with her, settling upon her consciousness similar to how a pallet of bricks is dropped upon the ground by a crane: brutally crushing anyone beneath. She was too tired to explain herself. Rubbing her weary face with a palm: "Never you mind. Did you need something?"

He resumed observing her gaping wounds. Oddly, they did not bleed. The flesh almost seemed to be frozen. Lienne shifted uncomfortably as his eyes bored through her. "Did you realize your potential? The power you wield?"

_I'm a planeswalker. _"Yes. I also discovered that I transport whatever I touch along with me." She held up the revolver. "Let's all be thankful I wasn't touching the dumpster."

Lienne chortled at her joke, but the joviality quickly died in her throat. It was only an inside joke, after all, and her conversation partner couldn't join in her revelry.

Vergil inclined his head in modest appreciation. "Good. You're not as vacuous as you first seemed."

The young woman laughed at his insult, feeling it to be minor compared to what he _could _have said. She decided to use an equally big word to describe him. "Thanks. Your humor has shown me you're not as _insipid_ as I expected."

The two stared at one another: the first shifted her eyes away awkwardly, confidence forgotten in the wake of his intense gaze; the second looked on with growing fascination.

"Insipid?" He echoed. After a moment, the swordsman's eyes glinted with mirth, and he let his hand drop from her. "Perish the thought." Vergil ended his observations, stepping away from Lienne.

Lienne regretted his stepping away. The spot where he'd held her grew cold. She felt the chill of Hell creep into her bones, and she wished her shirt didn't have so many holes bored into it from her previous battle.

Slowly, his face transformed into that of a predator; a lion eager to feast upon caught prey. "But now you've come . . ." Vergil seemed to be speaking to himself. His deep tone floated upon the breeze. Zephyrs carried his spoken song through the branches of stunted trees. Eerie echoes answered the call, ricocheting off the valley floor.

Lienne gasped as his hand shot out, meeting her throat in a vise grip. Holding her up easily, as though Lienne's one hundred and fifteen pounds were but feathers, Vergil continued. "Yes . . . I can see it . . . _You _are not special. It is the power you yield: the planestravel." His light pink lips upturned, soft and supple skin belying a deeper malevolence.

The victim didn't exactly know what Vergil wanted, only that the threatening hunger in his eyes was more frightening than Mundus himself.

She knew acting the young fool wouldn't get her out of this choke-hold. Lienne had to adopt an unexpected visage. After a moment of steeling herself, eyes closing, her mind stumbled upon the solution.

"You're worse than Dante"

Her voice was hoarse and flat, lacking the biting strength she wanted, but Lienne couldn't help it. Her larynx was currently being crushed, after all.

The captor's eyes remained impassive. He simply maintained an unforgiving stare.

"You are unable control yourself. You want infallible power at your fingertips - your heart to beat with immortality, in order to slay any foes you deem worthy, or to simply prove that you can. But aren't you always going on about the virtues of a noble warrior? Doesn't a noble warrior know temperance, know _discipline? _He laughs in the face of people that lust for omnipotence! Because a true warrior knows his limits, and uses them to his advantage, to _protect _people. The fortitude and perseverance the noble warrior nurtures within himself is what gives him strength.

But a demon? It's the embodiment of hatred and vice, a pure being of malevolent force. A demon can't protect anyone. It doesn't _want _to protect anyone." She decided to completely skip over the fact that his father was a "_nice"_ demon and therefore completely rendered her point moot. She simply went on with her lecture.

"Y_ou _Vergil, _you _are half-demon, half-_human_. You have the ultimate deal: you get the power of demon blood with the added benefit of humanity!" The more she thought about it, the more irritated Lienne became. _This lucky bastard doesn't know how fortunate he is. If _**I**_ had demon blood in me, I'd sure as hell use it for good. "_Didn't you say you wanted to protect people? Use the power you wished to attain to protect those that you are unable to now? So _do that_, instead of wasting your time down here, in the middle of nowhere."_ This guy . . ._ Her anger immediately died, heart growing cold. _Is there even anything wrong with what he seeks? __That's why he came down here, isn't it? To attain power to protect something? As to what that "something" is, I have no idea. But . . . have I misconstrued him?_

Finally, Vergil's eyes showed emotion. But the anger flowing from within him was innate, exactly the primordial emotions Lienne knew Vergil to posses. "You think humans have strength? Strength in their character?" He chuckled darkly, releasing her from the confines of his iron grasp, but not before clenching her neck one last time - he couldn't help himself. She dropped to her knees, gasping for the effluvium of death that was the air. "_You_ are a fool. Humans are but insects, the lowest rung of your so-called food chain. And yet you think having that . . . _putrid _blood flowing through my veins is _desirable?_"

Lienne grimaced, rubbing her throat. _That's it. I'm dead. Well, it was nice while it lasted. It just sucks that I have to die in Hell. Does that mean I'm going to be stuck here? For eternity?_

_That's ironic. I was complaining about not belonging anywhere. Maybe it's the universe's way of telling me _**this** _is where I belong._

Vergil drew his sword, slashing it through the drafts of air now billowing about them, wind howling as his anger came to a head. Though his expression was severe, his words were quiet, spoken to himself, " 'Added benefit of humanity?' " Deep trenches plagued Vergil's forehead as the half-devil's brows furrowed. The sword master closed in once again upon Lienne, finding his resolve once more. "Your newfound ability seems to have rendered you insane. I should relieve you from your misery."

The immaculate blade shined before her, reflecting the fantastical lights that floated above them. The orbs danced over the pair, seeming to thrive on the flaring emotions, feeding on their tumult.

As Vergil slowly prepared the blade, lowering it steadily as he took his time adopting a stance of execution, Lienne's hand shot out as a cobra grips her prey. "Quite the opposite, Vergil." _If I'm going to die, I might as well go out with a bang. _Thick blood trickled from her hand, marring the blade as salty crimson glided down the groove in the center of his sword, and came to pool around the handguard, dripping onto Vergil's own fingers. He felt the warm liquid slowly cool as it flowed over his hand. They were connected by her lifeblood; an intimate and antediluvian connection. "I'm the sanest I've ever been. It's _you _who fails to see the logic."

Unexpectedly, Vergil laughed at this. "You are an odd one, Lienne. It's too bad you're more annoying than useful. I have no need for a portal to the realm of humans, and I am sure the demons of Hell are sensing your presence, and will soon come to use you. I should kill you, before more come."

Lienne sighed. "How did I know this was going to happen?"

The dark twin smiled, white teeth glinting in the dim light. "You seem to have a knack for precognition."

She just snorted derisively, completely throwing her inhibitions to the wind. She was already going to die, so why not share her bitterness with her killer? "Oh, that's rich, Vergil." In response to the doom-bringing sword embedded in her hand: "That's what you always do, isn't it? Just kill anything that annoys you. You know, you're pretty _damn _presumptuous, thinking you can go around extinguishing whatever you don't like."

"You've quite the tongue." The observing look was back in Vergil's eye, along with a smirk. He lost his murderous aura. "I'm surprised anyone can put up with you."

"Ha!" Lienne was drunk on death, completely without control. "Who says they can? Frankly, I'm surprised no one's chopped my head off. A lot of people would lift you in a chair and yell "hava nagila!" just for doing the deed they'd never had the guts to."

The smirk left Vergil's lips, replaced by an expression of utter confusion. "I don't understand a word of what you just said."

She let go of the blade, wiping her dripping, bloodied hand off on her shirt gruffly. "Yeah, no one ever does. Just lop off my head already, before I say something else I regret."

Once again, Lienne couldn't discern the man's expression. His strong features were taut with something. Whether it be anger or irritation, she couldn't tell. Nonetheless, she was surprised when he finally spoke. "But you say people _want _you dead? They dislike you?"

Taken aback by his curiosity, she recomposed herself, then shrugged. "Not . . . exactly. Everyone pretty much just saw me as a freeloader. I didn't really have a place in life, and it's not like I could go on a religious journey to 'find myself'." She emphasized the overused saying by bending two fingers on her bleeding hand in an exaggerated manner - this caused more blood to bubble up from her hand, and it slowly dripped down her forearm. "So I guess we have that in common, Vergil. Neither of us knows what to do with ourselves. You're stuck in this dump, watching your ultimate adversary Mundus, knowing you can't fight him, and I'm stuck with you. At your mercy." Suddenly, she lost her carefree manner, and a deep pain gripped her chest. Vergil saw sadness color her brown eyes, and was astonished to find her grief incited something within him. He couldn't place the feeling, but he noticed his hand rising toward her - _reaching_ for her. In horror, he recoiled, forcing his hand back to his side. She was an odd girl - almost seeming to be a force of nature, always interesting and seemingly lively, therefore seeing her with such sorrow was unnatural.

Lienne closed her eyes, cutting off Vergil's observations. The young woman bared her neck to him. _She _**is**_ at my mercy. And, for some insane reason, she doesn't mind. _

"Do it."

Vergil's eyebrows narrowed together, manifesting the churning thoughts in his mind. His handsome face was marred by deep lines of suspicion. "Why do you desire death? Why rush to meet your end?"

Realizing he was hesitating, she took the opportunity to let herself fall backward, lying down from her previous sitting position. Without opening her eyes, Lienne pointed to the sky, gesturing to the floating orbs shooting back and forth like faeries.

"Because I feel like one of those. We're all just lights, floating around in a vacuum, with no purpose, no goal. Except you. You have a goal. So I guess that makes us different."

The stoic man watched her, as Lienne's hand spurted blood down her arm, ivory skin tainted by streams of bold red. The lifeblood began to collect on her chest, soaking into her shirt. "You said we are alike. Now you've changed your mind? You're quite indecisive."

Her arm dropped, landing with a painful thump on the hard ground. Blood shot from her hand due to the sudden pressure, a large spray leaping from her veins, coloring the grey stone. She completely ignored the fact she was bleeding to death, and instead focused on the headache that was currently assaulting her temples. Lienne rubbed her forehead roughly, trying to massage it with her thumb. Blood kept dripping into her eyes, however, and in irritation, she gave up. "I don't know, Vergil. For a moment, I thought I understood you. Now I'm off on a tangent, having an existential crisis. And, for some insane reason, you're not killing me."

_She took the words right out of my mouth. Why _**am** _I not killing her? Why is there this . . . this _**feeling** _telling me I will regret ending her pitiful life?_

He spun abruptly, sheathing his blade with an aggressive flourish. "Leave."

Astonished, Lienne's eyes shot open. She sat up, staring at the figure whose determined, rigid back was turned to her. The confused young woman was unsure if she should thank him. _Perhaps saying anything would change his mind?_

"Everyone has a purpose." Vergil's voice was not steel, as Lienne had come to expect. Rather, it was almost unsure, and a bit tentative. "Some purposes are pathetic, and seemingly pointless, but they are a goal. Something to live for."

Lienne couldn't help but laugh. The girl knew she should have restrained herself, but she just couldn't. It was too funny, hearing this always-brooding man trying to tell her there was meaning in life. "_Man,_ that was bad. You've never been one for uplifting speeches, have you?"

Vergil turned around, eager to snap at the young lady. But upon his change of direction, Lienne was no longer there. She had vanished, leaving nothing but pools of blood. The thirsty ground slowly consumed the crimson liquid, and Vergil watched it, lost in thought.

_Do not die, Lienne. I am unsure why, but seeing you die would . . . bother me. Slightly. _He added the last word quickly, not wanting to admit to himself that Lienne was interesting, and worth having around. Vergil also didn't want to admit he had been wrong in assuming her power was the only fascinating thing about her.

* * *

**Author's Note: I admit it. It's a trippy chapter. I won't be offended if you don't like it. Welp. . . ****I hope it wasn't boring? Passages I deem interesting are usually read as utterly snore-inducing by other people, and vice versa. I especially loved the end, but with my luck, half the people who read it hated it. Eh, well. At least I enjoyed writing it. See you next time!**

**P.S. Lienne is becoming an interesting character. She just keeps coming to me in spurts of random ideas, like that "sitar" part. It makes her seem more real, for her to have all these random eccentricities. Tell me what _you_ think! I'd welcome your input and advice :)**

**Sorry about the odd formatting concerning the quotes within quotations. The reason I'm using this set up " ' instead of "' is for legibility purposes. It's awkward, definitely.**

**Edited: 12/6/2013**

**Edited again: 12/11/2013 (Whoops. I realized I typed _who's_ instead of _whose_. Oldest mistake in the book.)**


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